At first, Beth was contemplating how she might be able to get to the car in time, when suddenly Fist-o decided it was a good time to grab her arm. The sudden urge to plant a fist into the bridge of his nose was growing more intense than she thought possible: and she felt her hand ball into a fist when she looked over at the man. An imaginary flash of his pretty-boy face with a broken nose was an intoxicating prospect, and the only thing that stopped her was a sensation of heat. Looking down, she saw that a fist-sized hole in the metal was forming, leaving molten traces of the steel in its wake.

“Okay, what the shit?” Beth looked at the man, only catching the back end of what he said about the orbs giving them both powers. She paused in confusion, looking at the dull gem that was rolling about on the floor. Did these little gems really give them both powers? She shrugged, before deciding to try and follow Fist-o’s train of thought. She inhaled and then exhaled, punching the ground in expectation of something awesome.

All that followed was the painful crunch of Fist against steel. She felt something break and instantly swore in anger and annoyance. “Fuck! That hurt! What kind of stupid fucking idea was it to have me punch the fucking bottom of a fu…” She stopped mid rant when she noticed what had broken. Her arm smarted a bit, but covering her entire fist was a layer of crystalline ice. 

“…Oh.”

She looked at the gem, then at the box, and finally at the ice on her fist and her partner in crime. “Okay, I’ve got an idea. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think we are going to be stuck together for a while, so…I need your help.” The words felt like venom off of her tongue: having to trust a man she barely knew was scary as shit. Trusting anyone was scary, this went against everything she knew. 

She touched the ground for a moment, and tried to recreate the emotion that made her voodoo, ice bullshit work last time, and in a moment, she was able to create a thick wall of ice, a few feet tall and a dozen inches thick. She withdrew her gun and placed it point blank against the block of ice, before firing: The bullet barely made it a couple inches through. “Okay, here is the deal. I’ll make us a moving shield: you blast the 5-0 with fire and carry the chest. If we make it to the car, hey-ho: we’re home free: Sound good?”

Without waiting for him to agree to the plan, she pulled her mask back on and started stomping up the stairs. All of her anger at the fucked up situation had changed into a strange state of confusion. She was suddenly spouting out Ice like a bad ass, and for some reason, the prospect unnerved her more than it excited her. She had read about people with these sorts of powers: Mutants, super heroes, super villians and shit like that. She’d never pictured herself as one of them.

At the top of the stairs, Beth spouted out her first wall of ice, a thick block of the stuff that reached from the floor to a few inches taller than her. It was a thick old block of ice, and she knew that the block should weigh a tonne: yet when she touched it, it seemed so damn light! She grasped the block of cold like a shield, and started marching forward.

She turned to shout down the stairway, uncaring for the cops that were likely staring at a giant, moving block of ice. “Calling captain tiny-dick: Are you bringing the box or not?” She heard the first gunshot and yelped as a dull thud connected with the block of ice. In the same way as below, the bullet harmlessly thudded against the block of ice, which then seemed to cover over the hole with even more ice. She grinned at the feeling of safety and power. “Holy shit, this is awesome.”